


Kit's Breakdown

by softesteshouten



Category: Poppy O'Possum (Webcomic)
Genre: Retelling, Rewrite, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27932116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softesteshouten/pseuds/softesteshouten
Summary: The nation thinks she's a joke. Her family doesn't care for her. She hasn't slept in days.She needs this.Retelling/rewrite of Poppy 6, from page 49 to page 56. Pretty short overall.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	Kit's Breakdown

...

"Poppy," you try to recover from your Dad's... less than graceful introduction, "I'm so sorry, he-," you stutter slightly on your words, pace quickening, "he doesn't know what he's--"

But, she shrugs it off. A smile on her face, a hand on your shoulder, "Hey, hey, it's fine!" She puts a hand at her hip and snickers a bit, "Look, I've been called _way_ worse things by people's dads before." She turns away, as if to reminiscence about her previous encounters. Or, maybe she's just glad she's friends with a Queen now and not some psychopath who would kill her if she merely blinked wrong. You can never really kno--

"Besides, I have it pretty good! At least I'm not stuck in a chair, I suppose."

...

Your face goes blank. Other words are yelled from her friends, but your mind focuses only on her's. Your head slowly turns back to your father, and you notice that poor opossum, sitting in the bottom of your father's chair. Stuck there, for who knows how long. Forced there, because of what they are, and what they could never be.

All this time, you've been trying to fight for these poor creatures. The only creatures you can relate to, really, and yet.

You sigh.

You turn away and start to walk, your lips moving faster than your mind, "You know what?"

The room falls to a silence.

"My stepmother was right."

You speak only to yourself, "I really need to stop wasting everyone's time."

Your expression dulls. You stop in place, ears folding behind your head as you speak as a Queen would--with loud and clear authority, "Captain, I have lab work to do.

"Watch my father until _that woman_ gets back, and tell Arthur he can handle the closing ceremonies _himself_."

You practically spit your words, making sure they're clear as day. Your brow furrows, hearing the captain's attempt to speak back. You suppose you weren't clear enough.

"That's a royal _order_ , Zarigueya."

It's silent again. You make your march towards your lab.

___

You take a moment to look up at the staircase before you. With another sigh, you climb it, briskly.

You bump into another person on your way up, a body full of fur that might just rival your own. Sounds of paper falling fill your ears, but you pay no mind to it.

A voice starts, "My apologies, your highness!"

You roll your eyes with a growl, "Yeah, I didn't see you there."

A familiar voice rings out, screaming your name.

You blow air out of your noise and pinch it's bridge, "Poppy, I _told_ you. I have a lot of work to--"

"Look, I know you may be upset with me," she barely gives you time to finish your sentence. And you do, her's.

"I'm not upset."

"Oh." There's a slight pause. "Well, still! I know you must be frustrated--"

"I'm not that either, Poppy." Your voice is as calm as water and as smooth as ice.

"Kit," you hear her climb up the stairs, "when I met you this morning, you were barely rested enough to _stand up_." Her voice is almost... soothing, to you. Listening to her rhythmic tones almost brings a smile to your face. "And you can't exactly act like the rest of today has been going how you hoped."

And so, you do. The brightest smile you can muster. You turn to the opossum and give her that smile. A smile of a Queen. A smile that would give hope to an entire nation.

"So I've had a bit of a bad day." You shrug, "So what?"

You begin to step towards her, "So what if I haven't slept in sixty hours, and everyone thinks I'm a joke?"

The water starts to waver ever so slightly, the ice slightly beginning to crack.

Her eyes begin to soften.

"So _what_ if I can't find a cure for my Dad, and other people have to sign away their lives for him? Other people I'm _supposed_ to protect, mind you!"

The ice breaks.

"So what if I..."

You compose yourself.

"I let them turn off the Dragon Bell, and _dozens_ of people died, and _it was all my fault_?"

You march down the stairs, still staring at the opossum. You grab hold of your dress as you do, your claws poking a bit through your gloves. You continue to give Poppy a smile. A perfectly normal smile. A smile anyone would love. A smile anyone would die for. A smile that the entire nation would think that they're protected under.

A smile full of lies.

"I," you step, "Am," another, "PERFECTLY," you grit your teeth, "FINE!"

You slam your foot on the next step downwards. It feels out of place among the rest, yet you pay it no mind. You walk forward again, and feel your foot slip into the air. Gravity begins to pull you down. Almost in an instance, you realize what was wrong with that step.

It was the paper that fell earlier.

You land directly on your bottom as you fall. The pain jolts you to your senses, just barely. You take a deep breathe in, and another out.

"Kit--", the opossum reaches her hand out to you, but you swat it away.

"It's fine. I'm fine! I can recover from this _gracefully_ on my--" as you stand, you find your footing slipping on another piece of paper.

You fall backwards, hitting your head several times on the stairs below you. You flail around, trying to keep any sense of dignity you could possible take from this. At the very last step, you manage to get one paw on the floor, and try to balance, try to save yourself, try _anything_ at all.

But you can't.

You fall over face first, landing directly on the top of your head.

Your dress falls over you, covering your upper body entirely, your rear on display for all. Your dingy crown falls from your head, rolling and clanking away.

You place your hands on the floor, pushing yourself up against the ground.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes.

You can't do anything right.

You can't do anything.

You're told to do the simplest of things, and you can't even do _those_ right.

Some Queen you are.

Some queen you are.

queen.

You're not even the real one.

You can't even play pretend right.

Everything you try to do, you fail.

You're...

Worthless.

"i hurt my butt..."

Those are the only words you can utter, in this moment of absolute disgrace.

You cover your face. You try to sob quietly. You try to keep this moment to yourself as best as you can.

But you can't.

Tears flow freely from your eyes as you scream out, whining and sobbing and crying all the while.

You feel yourself being picked up, but you don't even care.

You cry into her shoulder, staining it with your tears. Your yelling can probably be heard for miles, but you can't care.

It hurts. Everything hurts.

By the time you can process coherent thoughts again, you can hear Poppy call out to you.

"Kit?"

You say not a word. You only answer her with sobs.

You can feel the comfort of a bed below you. You grasp onto Poppy harder than you have before.

And you don't want to let go.

You never want to let go.

She's the only thing you have, right now.

...

Everything hurts.

...

It's a couple of moments of this, holding her as close as you can, before you can utter anything at all.

Your voice is shakey. There's still tears falling out of your eyes. You're sniffling with every other word.

"Poppy?"

She turns to you. You feel like a child.

"Can..." you stutter, "Can I ask you for a favor?"

She responds, as calm as ever, "Sure. Might as well."

Your body shakes violently, gripping onto the arm of your opossum friend as tightly as you can.

"Can I..." You gulp, "Can I ask you to... lie," you pause, a brow of her's raises, "to me?

"Tell me I'm 'doing an okay job', or just..."

Your voice gets smaller.

"Tell me..."

And even smaller.

"I'm a good person." Please.

"Kit, I'm not going to _lie_ to you." You deflate, as if you could feel worse than you do now. "That's pathetic."

There's a small moment of silence, before she continues, her voice almost as small as yours.

"And I don't need to, anyway."

She pulls her arm away from you and leans on her side, facing your way. She pokes the cheek below her eye, and gives you a smile. "If ya really wanna know what I think of you, then there's something I can just _show_ you." Her left ear twitches slightly. "Look at me." You do. There's a pause, before she snickers, "Closely!"

She opens her eye wide, pointing to it again. She feels very sly with her words, "I've been told my eyes are _very_ reflective."

You look into her eyes. Her pretty, hazel eyes. And in the reflection...

"That's me?"

Thirty-five year old Kit Darling, standing Queen in place of her sister. Chemist, winner of many prizes, and savior of many lives.

"That's you!"

Her hand holds your head in place, and you lean into it, just slightly.

You haven't seen yourself in decades, your eyes almost as hazel as her's. Your ears larger than your own head. A tuft of red hair, at the top of your already light brown furred head. Your muzzle is covered in white fur, to accent the brown, you suppose. Your nose is as black as ever, wiggling slightly at the sight of yourself.

You can see yourself beginning to smile. You begin to stifle a chuckle, holding a hand in front of your face. Poppy's head tilts.

You can't hold it anymore. You explode in laughter, turning your face away from your opossum, "I look like a _fucking doofus_!!!" You can't stop laughing, can't stop smiling, can't stop imagining yourself and how you've looked, all these years. Especially today. Oh, _especially_ today. What did Zarigueya think, when he met you at your bath this morning? Or the nation, when you addressed them today? Or even your father, when he awoke from his crazed stupor? You laugh even harder, "No wonder no one takes me seriously!"

All the while, Poppy is stunned. She just sits there, speechless, waiting for your laughter to die down. She lays on her back again, just staring at your laughing fit, a smile showing on her face.

You begin to calm, and look at her again, holding the pillow for comfort.

Her smile is so beautiful.

"Oh, Mrs. Odeletta," you start, sighing, "I really wish I was more like you. You've got it all together."

She gives another snicker, "Kit, c'mon. My life is a _mess_."

She brings up a hand and begins listing off her tragedies, as if items on a grocery list, "Stabbed, beaten, set on fire, shot more times than I can count--"

Your face turns to shock, interrupting her woes, "Poppy, that's awful! That's terrible!"

She shakes her head, "No, no. That's stuff I can deal with--that stuff is easy. You wanna know what's hard?" Her eyes dart towards the child under the red handkerchief. She sighs. "Y'know what my daughter asks me, Kit?" You tilt your head. "She asks me, 'what did we do to deserve being born opossums?' And I just..." She pauses, her face grimacing, "I have _nothing_ for that.

"Y'know, my Mom handled _nine_ daughters without breaking a damn sweat, yet here _I_ am struggling to take care of _one_." She shakes her head again, "There was a point in my life where I'd have given _anything_ , and I mean _ANYTHING_ to have kids. But now that I'm here..."

She slams her head against the pillow, "I really have _no idea_ what I'm doing."

You sit up, and smile at her. A smile of understanding. "Yeah, well, neither do I, obviously." You turn your head to the ceiling, "Maybe everyone is like that." You begin to mutter, still loud enough to hear, "A little bit, at least."

You turn to your opossum again, "For what it's worth, you seemed like a pretty good mom to me." Better than your's.

"Yeah," she sits up, "and as far as authoritative figures go, you've done the best by me and Lily, easily!"

You two begin to chuckle in unison, as if in on an ages old joke. Your hand slaps against her's, and you blush, immediately.

Her hands... They're so big! Your hands are just so tiny compared to her's! It's like comparing a rat to a t-rex! Another snicker starts to rise.

You two burst out laughing, again. A joke untold, but still formed.

The water has calmed. Yet, the ice is still cracked.

But you think that's a good thing, for now.


End file.
